


Running Towards Freedom

by heres_someart



Category: Ships of the Northern Fleet
Genre: I dont know how to tag things-, Please be nice, Scribe-Feathers, Ships of the Northern Fleet - Freeform, Steampunk Pirates, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29219166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heres_someart/pseuds/heres_someart
Summary: Merric West was left on the ship of Quartermaster Atley Shurlow at the end of the series. Now they need to escape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Running Towards Freedom

A candle flickers, illuminating the page before Merric unevenly. Their quill danced across the paper, leaving marks of shiny black ink. The lighting on their face made Merric look very sinister, their normally soft expression becoming sharp with the harsh shadows. The ship hit a rough patch and Merric’s pen thickly marked the paper before them. They put the feather pen away and got up to try and fix their mistake.  
As they were struggling to get the ink out of the paper, there was a hard knock followed quickly by the sound of a wooden door opening. Merric turned around, quickly hiding the paper in their hand. Lounging against the doorframe was the quartermaster, Atley Shurlow. “Hello, Princess.” He took a step closer to the obviously uncomfortable scribe. “Write anything new today?”  
Merric backed up, hitting the desk behind them. They looked around the room, desperately looking for something they could use as a weapon. They reached for their lit candle but Shurlow grabbed their wrist before they could get it. “You’re not thinking about hurting me, are you? That wouldn’t be a good decision, now would it?”  
“Get away,” they said in an almost inaudible mumble. Merric’s heart raced. They needed to do something, anything to get away.  
“What was that?”  
Merric took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of the quartermaster. He must have been 5, 6 inches taller than Merric. His golden hair danced between their faces. His lips were pulled into a tight smile. “Get. Away.” Merric stood taller, pushing away the man before them slightly.  
“Feisty today, are we? I could always put you in your place.” No matter how much honey was put into those words, there was no ignoring the sinister promise knitted in.  
Merric tried not to show the fear that was quickly overcoming their senses. They tried their hardest to forget what happened on their third day on the ship. Their skin is still scared in those ever-overlapping lines. Their mind is still tainted with the memories of the pain. They could still see the smile on Shurlow’s face.  
Shurlow stepped, again closer to Merric, pushing them towards the wall. “I can make it so you never defy me again. That is, unless you just want to stop here and listen.”  
Merric’s vision went red. They don’t remember willing it, but they remember feeling their fist hitting the soft flesh of Atley Shurlows face. He stumbled back from the shock, giving Merric enough time to run across the room and grab a sword laid on the wall. They turned quickly to face the man with sun-like hair. His nose was bleeding from the punch. Blood dripped down his face and stained his white sleeve he used to wipe his nose.  
The two pirates stared at one another. The light shining into the room looked green from the blue-stained class that was used for windows. Occasionally, you would hear the clank of two pieces of clog-work hitting each other. Merric took a step closer to the cowering quartermaster. Their sword hit his neck, drawing the tiniest pinprick of blood. “Get out of my quarters and don’t enter without my permission again.”  
Atley’s eyes were wide and his breathing was quicker than usual. His face was plagued with fear, an emotion not usually found on the quartermaster. “Of- Of course.”  
As the man was turning to leave, he pulled out his twisting dagger. He shoved his hand back, trying desperately to hit the Scribe-Feather behind him. Merric wasn’t quick enough to catch it and felt a sharp pain right beneath their rib. Their clothes were ripped and bleeding. They needed to get a healer or they would bleed out. They swung their sword, desperately trying to hit Shurlow.  
His arm started bleeding from where he was hit. He glanced at his new wound and swung again at Merric. This time, they were ready for it. The cabin was filled with the sound of metal on metal. The bronze-stained sword in Merric’s hand pressed firmly against the bright shine of Shurlow’s curving dagger. Atley looked at the scribe, his face pulled into a tight, violence-promising smile.  
He put more of his weight into the movement, pushing both weapons closer to Merric. They started slipping on the red-slick floor. The two pirates pushed their weapons against each other, Merric being quickly disadvantaged. Their stomach continued to bleed and they were losing blood quickly. They needed to be quick or they would pass out before they could overpower Shurlow.  
They fought, trying their hardest to continue standing. Metal hit metal. It smelled like iron. Shurlow fell to the ground. Merric didn’t have the time to land a final blow. They just dropped their sword and ran, leaving the quartermaster on the ground. They needed to get away, get out from this horrid ship. But where could they go?


End file.
